


Work in Progress

by amythis



Category: Roseanne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-14 02:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Darlene in '18.





	1. Prologue

"Don't b.s. me, Mom."

I'm telling everyone I'm moving back to Lanford to look after my parents, but I can't fool my kids, especially Harris. She is a chip off the old block, and I am of course a chip off the mother of all boulders.

I lost my job. I don't want to talk about it, except that it's not the first job I've lost and I could probably get another in Chicago, but I don't want to. I want to go back to Lanford, that depressed and depressing town I spent years longing to escape.

And my parents do need me, Mom especially. I can't believe she hasn't talked to Aunt Jackie in over a year. Yeah, not since the election. I understand, I understand both of them, but our family was always about, well, family. I mean, I still talk to Becky, and she didn't even vote.

"How can you not vote?"

"I haven't voted in years. Politics is all a joke."

"You were on the student council! With whatshisname, the guy you farted in front of."

"Jimmy Meltrigger," she grumbled. She blushed, too, after almost thirty years. I still know her weak spots.

"You of all people should appreciate 'democracy in action.' " Yeah, I did air quotes.

"Oh, like Hillary getting the popular vote and losing?"

"Maybe she wouldn't have lost if you'd voted."

She shook her head. "Face it, Darlene, the non-voters are the majority in this country. We're the real Americans."

I shook my head, too. We sounded as stupid as our mother and aunt. Not that this doesn't all matter, but there are other things in life. So I just said, "Well, at least you'll be able to talk to everyone at Thanksgiving."

Jackie didn't show up. She's missed a lot of holidays in the past fifteen months, and we are a family that's big on holidays.

I stayed in touch with her, as did D.J. from over in Syria. He joined up after 9/11, before we were even officially at war. He gave up film school and went into the Army. He's stayed and stayed, for years. I used to have nightmares about him dying, but that kid was always indestructible. At first, I told myself that this Gulf War would be over almost as soon as it started, like the Gulf War in the early '90s. But it kept going, and so did he. He even fell in love, got married, and had a daughter with a servicewoman. (A black servicewoman. You can imagine the incredibly insightful and sensitive things that Grandma Harris said about that, may her soul now rest in peace.)

He's supposed to be coming home soon, with his daughter, Mary, yes, named after her late great-great-grandmother. It's a good name. It's what I named my firstborn.

In the book Mom wrote, where she changed our lives around like a Choose Your Own Adventure, with Dad one minute dying and then the next cheating on her with his mother's nurse, before his mother tried to kill him, my premature baby was named Harris and lived. But my baby Mary wasn't indestructible. She wasn't saved by the power of family love.

After that, it was back to condoms and the Pill. My marriage survived, for awhile. In some ways, it was stronger than ever. But Mary was the ghost, looking over our shoulder. She'd be 21 now and not a day goes by that I don't think about her.

I didn't want another kid at first. Hell, it used to be impossible to imagine myself as a mother. Becky was the maternal one and I know she hated that Mark was infertile. He was embarrassed about it, like it made him less manly. He refused to adopt. And then he died. And she started drinking. She'd given up on medical school but she had become a nurse, since there's a nursing school in Elgin and she could commute from Lanford. But she gave up nursing after Mark died.

Anyway, I didn't want kids until I got pregnant, yeah, at Disneyland. When I was pregnant, I felt more creative and happier than I'd ever been. Yes, my Mary was an accident, but a good one. Everything seemed to fall into place, with David, with work. Until she died.

I lost my job as a copywriter. I didn't feel that creative anymore, even for advertising. I got other jobs. Sometimes I did manage to write, but like my mother's novels, it never really went anywhere. David still drew and painted. We'd talk idly of doing a comic again, maybe online, but it was just talk.

Then one day in 2002 David and I had just watched an episode of _Bosom Buddies_ on cable and he suddenly looked at me and exclaimed, "That's us!"

"When did we ever wear dresses so we could live in a dirt-cheap New York hotel?"

"No, I'm Kip and you're Henry."

"Your hair isn't as curly as early '80s Tom Hanks's, and I'm more butch than Peter Scolari."

"Darlene, you haven't written in months and I haven't painted in months."

"You doodled on the Lunchbox menu last month."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, OK, yeah. It's hard to be creative when you've got a nine-to-five job." I didn't add, "And when the best thing you ever made disappeared."

He must've read my mind because he took my hand and said, "Darlene, let's have another baby."

"Oh, David."

"Come on. We're older now. And, well, healthier."

I frowned. "You mean I'm healthier. I've been off drugs a longer time."

"Darlene, you know I don't blame you. I've never blamed you."

"David, maybe I'm not meant to be a mother."

He stroked my stomach. "I think you are."

"You think every woman is meant to be a mother."

"Not my mother," he said quietly. "But you are. And I'd help. You know that."

"I think you just want unprotected sex."

"Well, there's that."

So we had it. Unprotected sex. And a baby, ten months later.

Mom was thrilled that we named her Harris. "Just like in my book!"

"Yeah, except Mark isn't the father. Or is he? Dun dun duh!"

That was the weirdest part of her novel, weirder than Dad's death or all the nuttiness with the lottery. She switched around the Healy boys on us. I could actually see David with Becky. In fact, there was a point when he and I had split up but I was really jealous of their friendship. But me with Mark? I don't think so.

And now I have a son named after my late double brother-in-law. I wonder sometimes what Old Stupid would think of his namesake, especially since Little Mark is gender-fluid. Big Mark used to consider David effeminate, and David has never worn a skirt, even for Halloween.

When I told Jackie, I thought she would bring up David's wimpiness or my butchness or the divorce. But she said, "You have to let Mark express who he is." She's a life coach, yeah, despite the mess of her own life, but then that never stopped her from telling people what to do, if less successfully than Mom's unsolicited advice.

I haven't come out to Jackie or anyone but David and Dad. I didn't start dating women until after the divorce. David was sweet and funny about it. He said, "Well, I guess I've ruined you for other men." I still like men though, yes, including in bed.

"Darlene, I don't want to hear that!" Dad protested. "Let's just say you're gay and keep it simple."

"Dad, I'm not gay. I'm bi."

He shook his head. "Please, Darlene, I've had to make enough adjustments. Let me think of you as a lesbian mom, OK?"

I sighed. "OK. But I'm not gay."

He hasn't told Mom. I don't know when I'll tell her. I'm not seeing anyone right now and I think the dating options in Lanford will be limited, especially when I'll be living at home. I'll probably tell my kids soon. They're 14 and 9 and so bright. They probably suspect. But I haven't had a serious enough relationship, with a man or woman, since David that I've wanted to talk to them about it. And I'm pretty good at keeping secrets.

And, yeah, Mom is pretty good at prying secrets out of people. But I'll risk that in order to go home. I think it's what my family needs— my kids, my parents, my aunt, and, OK, me. But I'm not going to be Lanfordized. I'm still a rebel at 41 and spending a quarter century in Chicago has only strengthened my rebellion.


	2. Second Draft

OK, I lied. Grandma Bev isn't dead. And I'm not divorced. But I have been separated for a few years.

Grandma Bev lives in a retirement home, like she has since she was about Mom's age. A different retirement home but still. Mom wouldn't let us "put her away" even if she were Grandma's age now. But then she's always been more like Nana Mary.

So, yeah, the separation. The thing about me and David is we've always broken up and gotten back together. Even before we were actually a couple, back when we were just friends and he wanted to be "more than." The old can't live without him, can't live with him thing. Sometimes I think that even if he ever agreed to a divorce, we would still be connected, and not just because he got me pregnant three times.

The last time was when his brother was in the hospital. Harris was four, no longer a cute little baby. I mean, she was cute but she was already a sarcastic little bitch, and I say that with all due respect and pride. Our third baby wasn't a happy accident like Mary and he wasn't planned like Harris. It was just David was unhappy and we didn't decide to have another baby but it was a possibility. So the Pill and the condoms were set aside again.

Mark Healy the Elder was dead by the time his nephew was born. David, who's so emotional anyway, was grieving heavily, even though he was thrilled by his son. He said, "Darlene, I know you hated Mark, but would it be OK if we gave the baby 'Mark' as a middle name? Like 'Daniel Mark'?"

"I never hated him. I didn't exactly respect him, but I liked him. And he made Becky happy, which is not an easy thing to do. How about 'Mark Daniel'?"

David managed a smile. "Really?"

"Or 'Mark Maurice' has a certain zing to it."

I made David laugh, which was an accomplishment right then.

I didn't have the baby to save our marriage, which was good, since three months later David told me he wanted to build houses for the poor.

"What are you, Jimmy Carter?"

"Darlene, it's important to me. I want to help people. I can't do that in advertising."

"You got a D in Shop class!"

"Only because I was ditching school so much that year." He didn't have to say it was the year that I started art school.

"Well, so would this be volunteering or what?"

"They pay room and board and a little extra."

"Room and board? So this wouldn't be in Chicago?" I was struggling not to lose my temper.

"No, I'd get my training Down South and then they'd send me to third world countries."

"And I'm just supposed to pick up and move two little kids?"

"No, Darlene. It's just for me. Something I need to do."

I stared at him. "You goddamn liar!"

"It's true, Darlene. I can show you the brochure."

I shook my head. "You always said you'd help with the kids. Hell, you offered to be a househusband when you were, what, 17?"

"I just feel really overwhelmed right now. I need to get away."

"Oh, poor David! His brother died and now he can't live up to his responsibilities."

He winced. I would've felt guilty but I was too hurt and angry. "Darlene, I'll come back. I just need time away."

"Fine! Then go!"

So he went. He did come back. Several times over the past decade. So I was married and a single mom at the same time. And, yes, it was back to condoms and the Pill, because I couldn't risk being stuck with another kid, but I also couldn't seem to give up having sex with David when he was in town. (Not that he's been to Chicago in awhile. I really doubt he'll ever follow us to Lanford.)

I love my kids, don't get me wrong. But I never planned on doing this alone.

So I'm back in Lanford. And now there are three people trying to raise my kids. Mom and Dad have different ideas about Mark than I do, especially the cross-dressing thing. But they in their own ways accept him. Harris is tougher, especially for Mom, mostly because Harris is Roseanne III in a lot of ways.

"The sink? You tried to drown her in the sink? Really, Mom?"

"It wasn't drowning. It was dunking. And anyway it was cathartic."

I shook my head and set down the sheet of double-spaced paper. Yeah, Mom's writing studio is open for business again. No lotteries or hijackings this time, just Mom being the all-knowing matriarch of the family. (Grandma Bev doesn't count. Mom usurped the throne decades ago.)

I'm trying to be understanding about that and everything else. I know Harris is difficult. I know that she accepted stolen goods and sold them online. But I had to bring up the time Mom tried to steal three stoves. She hasn't exactly built her life on honesty and fair play.

I didn't bring up Grandpa Al hitting her and Jackie with a belt and hanging it on the wall for all their friends to see. Or the time Mom hit D.J. and felt guilty about it, even though he stole her car. I know she would never be physically abusive to any of us or the grandkids, so I let her write her fantasies. But, yeah, it's sad in a way, the great Roseanne Conner can only imagine defeating a mouthy, selfish teenager, rather than a trainful of terrorists.

She might have a fifth grandchild. No, not from me. I've been celibate since moving to Lanford. And D.J.'s wife is still overseas, so his Mary will stay an only child for now. But Becky has some crazy idea about becoming a surrogate mother, yeah, at 43, although she's pretending to be 33. She's doing it for the money, because $50,000 can actually be a down payment on a house in Lanford, unlike in the first world.

When David and I asked her how she'd feel about us naming our son Mark, she said, "Why not? I'm never going to have a Mark, Jr."

Sometimes I thought she didn't really want kids of her own. I understand. Being a mom is hard. And Mark was infertile, so I guess she gave up on it after awhile. I don't know.

I lied about her becoming a nurse. She did consider it but she ended up never leaving Lanford again. She and Mark stayed in that trailer park until he died and she couldn't afford it anymore. She is a waitress though, at a Mexican restaurant, putting her A's in high school Spanish to good use.

I know, I can't judge. I'm unemployed and the only prospect I've got is Build-A-Bear at the Lanford Mall. The interview's tomorrow. Wish me luck.


	3. Sequels

"What's your secret, Deej?"

"Secret?"

"Yeah, to a successful marriage." I was teasing my kid brother, but it's true, of the four of us, he's the only one happily married. "And don't say it's living thousands of miles apart, because that didn't work for me and David."

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's that Geena is the first girl I ever kissed."

"God, that means I should've married Brian! And Becky should've married, um, who was the guy before Jimmy Meltrigger?"

"The Tongue Bandit?"

I chuckled. "Oh yeah, Johnny Swanko. But before him."

"Skip?"

"Chip!" It came back to me now, Chip Lang, who was Mark's opposite, while Johnny had been a bad-boy precursor. Then I thought of something. "Wait a minute. You didn't end up doing the play where you were supposed to kiss Geena."

D.J. looked like an embarrassed tween rather than a grown man and combat veteran. "Yeah, but I kissed her a month later, when I apologized. Or she kissed me I guess, to show me it wasn't so bad."

"And was it?"

"Darlene."

"No, it was nice but I still wasn't ready for it. Not because she's black but you know, kissing."

"Yeah." I wasn't really ready for it with Brian either but I ended up going on to second base because I was curious. I took things much slower with David, which maybe is why it's dragged out so long.

D.J. and Geena weren't middle school sweethearts. They didn't actually date. (Well, neither did Brian and I, although he wanted to.) Her family moved away by the time D.J. was in high school and they didn't meet again for another decade, when D.J. and Geena were both serving overseas. They bonded over both being from Lanford and then I guess the romance developed out of the friendship.

David and I started out as friends, too, although he wanted to be "more than" from the beginning, while I was in denial. I didn't want to lose my best friend, and I'd been watching Becky date for three or four years, so I thought what we had was better. But David and I can never just let things be. We can't move on, or at least we haven't managed it so far.

He came back last week. Mom was in touch with him all this time, and she arranged for him to visit on Harris's birthday. He came back a day early, well, technically it was her birthday, since it was after midnight. He showed up outside my window, just like the time he wanted us to run off to New York together because he didn't want to live with his abusive, divorcing mom. Well, not just like. A lot has happened in the last quarter century. But enough like that it took me back.

I didn't question it at the time, but it wasn't the same window. I'm sleeping in D.J.'s room, I mean his original bedroom before Jerry came along. (Twenty-two-year-old Jerry Garcia Conner is on an Alaskan fishing boat, away from all the family drama, lucky guy.) My kids are in my childhood bedroom, the one I shared with Becky, because it's larger. And somehow David knew that, which means Mom must've told him.

Mom is weird about me and David, and always has been. She's always interfered in all our lives, but she was really invested in my relationship with David. When I was dating Jimmy (not Meltrigger), she took it personally, because she'd already grown very attached to David. Some of that's my fault, like asking her and Dad to let David move in, but I didn't want him to run away to New York, especially without me. Anyway, every time David and I broke up, she'd try to push us back together. I thought that was what she was doing this time, especially when I realized hours later that he knew which window to climb up to. But that wasn't her scheme for once.

Not that I apparently needed her pushing this time. I thought at first that David wanted to get back together, but as soon as I heard about "Blue" (ick), his new girlfriend, it was just like when Molly, my skanky neighbor, kissed him. Jealousy and possessiveness took over. Plus, you know, he's my husband, and has been for over twenty years. Even though we haven't spent that whole time together, it makes a difference, being married.

So when he asked for a divorce, I had to get him back. It took just one kiss! Maybe I should've questioned why it was so easy, for both of us, but I didn't. Just like 25 years ago, hormones took over for both of us.

We kissed some more and landed in my bed.

He did ask, "What am I gonna tell Blue?"

I said, "Tell her she's got a stupid name."

They hadn't had sex. As he put it, before I kissed him, "Blue says she won't merge our spiritual paths until you and I sign divorce papers." We still used a condom. Yes, I have a pack in my room, just in case I got lucky in Lanford. I didn't know it would be with my husband. It wouldn't have been a good time for me to get pregnant, worse than I knew in fact.

The sex was good, like it almost always was between us. I was on top when we were making out and I stayed on top through most of the sex, teasing him about having said he has no more upper-arm strength now that he's vegan. (I used to be vegetarian, before I had to cook for two finicky kids. I tried to get David to be vegetarian, too, but Molly had better luck than I did.)

It wasn't just sex. It was making love. We whispered, "I love you," again and again. We were as quiet as possible. Not only were our kids across the hallway, but my dad was downstairs.

David is still afraid of my dad. And when Dad later put his foot down about David not seeing Mark until David officially moves back to town, David of course gave in.

That was why David came to see me, that and to ask for the divorce. In a week, he'll be living in Lanford. I'm glad he's back, but it's all so complicated now.

Both Mom and Becky talked me out of really getting back together with David. They said if it was going to work with him, it would've by now. And I had to face that I'm not sixteen anymore. I've got two living kids, kids who look like that sweet, unshaven, wonderful mess of a human being I merged with in the wee hours of our middle child's fifteenth birthday.

I have to let David go as my husband, and support his efforts to try to be a better father. But it hurts, it really hurts, because we still love each other, and soon I'll have to see him with Miss Crayola and pretend to be happy about it.

"Harris says Dad's moving to Lanford."

I stroked my son's straight hair. (Where did that kid get that manageable hair? Harris has uncontrollable hair, like me and David, hair that David and I bonded over when he'd introduced himself to my mother as Kevin for a joke. On the other hand, Harris is a giant compared to both of us, taking after my dad's height.) "Yeah, he is. Right near your school."

"What's Dad like? I don't remember him much."

"He's very artistic, like you. And sensitive and loving."

"Then why does he keep leaving us?"

"Because I'm a bitch."

Mark hugged me. "You're just tough and brave."

"Thanks, Kid. I try."


	4. The Adventures of Wonderbra and the Super

"What do you want?" I say, grateful to relax into rudeness for a moment.

"I want to talk to you."

"David, you may think I'm doing Karma Chameleon cosplay, but I'm at work."

"What time are you through?"

"In an hour."

"Can you meet me outside?"

I shrug. "OK." It's not worth arguing about.

I wait until he goes outside and then I go back to "flirting with the customers." I feel as awkward as I did when I was fourteen and trying to flirt with Barry Parker. That was on Becky's advice, too, and then he ended up asking her to the Valentine's dance. This time, she, from her years of experience waitressing, says I need to do this to get bigger tips and take care of my family. I told her I didn't even flirt to have my kids. And, yeah, David chose me over girls like Molly that did actually flirt with him. But now he's with Blue, as I have to keep reminding myself.

I didn't want this job. Crystal was retiring and said whoever she chose as her successor (I know, not a Crystalite word) would be a shoo-in. It would've been a step up for Becky, and let's face it, she still thinks she's the 19-year-old running around in Bunz shorts. Dad disapproved of that job and that outfit, but he actually encouraged me to take this job, since Crystal offered it to me first and I've got kids to support, unlike Becky. She stepped aside, grudgingly, when I went for it. So now I have a salary and benefits and dozens of unsolicited phone numbers on napkins from drunken gamblers.

And, yeah, there's the "riverboat-whore vibe." Crystal could wear this outfit unself-consciously in her 60s but it's not what I want to wear in my 40s, or ever. Red and black, low-cut (Becky brought over a Wonderbra for me a couple weeks ago), high or nonexistent hem, fringe, a garter belt, not just a rose but a feather in my hair, I look ridiculous. But men, well, drunken gamblers, think I look sexy. And since Build-A-Bear didn't want me, here I am, five nights a week from 7 p.m. to 2ish.

The only good thing that's come out of it is I'm writing. Not just this, which is more directly autobiographical than the new piece, although I am changing things around in this work in progress as I go. The new piece is about a brilliant, young novelist who works at a casino for research, pretending it's a real job. OK, I'm not exactly young, but Marlene isn't exactly me. She lives in Vegas and I'm fictionalizing other details. It's dark and I hope funny. I write it in the kitchen after I get off work, although it looks like tonight I'll have to talk to David first.

It's not that we haven't talked since the morning when I told him I love him but we can't keep doing this to ourselves or the kids. He's living in Lanford now and I see him when he comes by to pick up or drop off the kids. Harris is wary of him, understandably, while Mark is open and looking for a chance to bond, as they haven't since he was a baby. I don't want David to hurt them by leaving again, but Harris told me, "We'll survive if he does. Just don't you go anywhere."

"Don't worry, I'm trapped."

I was joking, but not. I would never abandon my kids, any more than Mom would've abandoned us, although there were times when I wished she would've.

I overheard Mom praying the night before she went in for her knee surgery, not just asking God that she'd survive (yeah, she's fine) but that He'd find me a man. I find men every worknight but they're "not exactly husband material," as Crystal warned me. She's been married, what, five times? The one after Grandpa Ed died didn't stick around very long.

Somehow her son Lonnie has been happily married for ten years, to David's sister Lisa! Yeah, I have no idea what their secret is. It's not like either of them grew up with role models for happy, successful marriages. Anyway, to make my family tree even more confusing, Lisa's kids are my step-grandmother's grandchildren, so I guess they're not just my niece and nephews but my step-cousins? Something like that.

I make it through the last hour, trying to smile and "flirt," telling every guy who orders, "That's my favorite drink, too!" By the end of my shift, I feel like I need all those drinks, but I'll go home to my first love. Writing I mean. But first I need to see my human first love and find out what he wants.

I clock out and grab my coat. I find David leaning against his car, an electric art car. Could he be any more out of place in Lanford?

OK, the car is amazing. He painted it himself, with scenes from his world travels. But it makes me so angry and jealous, because I've never been further from home than Disney World, on the trip where he got me pregnant. And he'd already been to France at that point! Oh, and I did take that trip to Disneyland with my family and, ick, Molly's family. Anyway, it may be a small world after all, but my part of it is microscopic.

"Ah, you brought the Hipster-Mobile."

He hates when I call him a hipster, especially since he's not smooth or self-confident or "cool." But he just grimaces and says, "I can drive you home if you want."

"And what do I do with my car? Leave it to be looted?"

"Darlene, it's two in the morning. And who would want your car?"

I wince because he's right. Then I go into attack mode. "Maybe I could afford a better car if you'd help me support the kids."

Now he winces. "I'm going to. It's just I had to pay first and last month's rent and then the flood came along and a lot of the stuff in my storage unit got damaged, so I have to replace that."

"FEMA isn't rescuing you?"

"No, only if it'd had hit my apartment, and I'm on the second floor."

More quietly I ask, "Is your art OK?"

"Yeah, I've got it crammed into my apartment."

"Good."

"Harris says you're writing."

"Your daughter needs to shut up."

"My daughter?"

Then we smile at each other and, dammit, I can feel myself being drawn towards him. I need to fight it, for all of us.

"I'm working on a couple things. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No, although I am happy about it."

"Well, thanks."

"Can we sit in my car?"

"You want to fill out applications to art school?"

"I think it's a little late for that. I'm just cold and I want to warm up."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Not like that. The heater in the car."

"Oh, right." I try not to think of how cold he was from hanging outside my window a month and a half ago and how quickly he warmed up when we touched.

We get in and before he can comment on my job or my outfit, I say, "Mark said you found a job but he wasn't supposed to say what it was."

"Your son needs to shut up."

I don't smile. "What is it?"

David sighs. "I'm acting super."

"Yeah? Well, I'm being totally awesome, but it doesn't pay too well."

"No, the superintendent at my apartment building quit after the flood, so I'm filling in until they can find someone more permanent. And it's mostly room and board, not much pay."

I think of how Deadbeats without Borders was mostly room and board, but I don't say that. Instead I say, "So, Schneider, are you looking for something more permanent?"

"Of course. I do want to help with the kids more. Not to mention support myself."

"And Blue?"

"She supports herself."

"Let me guess. She's a Psychic Friend."

"I don't want to talk about her right now."

"What do you want, David?"

"I want to know why you took a job that goes against everything you stand for."

"For this lovely uniform obviously. And the free drinks."

"No, that's why Becky would've taken the job." It's probably the harshest thing he's ever said of her, and it catches me off guard.

"What am I supposed to do, David? I can't just mooch off my parents. And I need to take care of our kids. Even Build-A-Bear wouldn't hire me!" I'm struggling not to cry.

"Why did you leave Chicago? There are more opportunities there."

"I can't do this anymore! Not on my own. I'm too old and tired to be tough and strong." Now I am crying and I hate it, especially in front of him.

He puts an arm around my shoulders and part of me wants to push him away but I snuggle into him out of habit.

"I hate you!" I sob.

"I know, I hate me, too."

"Well, at least we still have something in common."

He strokes my hair and starts humming. It takes my brain a minute to recognize the missing lyrics: "Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams. Red, gold, and green, red, gold, and green." I want to snark at him but I know it's my fault he's thinking of that song.

"We can't, David, please don't kiss me." I think of telling a drunken gambler a couple weeks ago, "I'm not gonna kiss you. 'Cause it'd be too darn hard to stop!" I was trying to turn my repugnance into flirtation. It would be too hard to stop with David. I know that too well by now.

"I won't. I'm just holding you."

So I let him, until we've both warmed up and I've stopped crying. Then he drives me home and I hope everyone is asleep and doesn't see his car.

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FALL


	5. Writer's Block

This is the first thing I've written in months. I've had blocks before, sometimes for reasons I couldn't identify, but I know exactly where the one this summer came from. I read one of Mom's short stories, one I don't think she wanted anyone to see but one that she nonetheless left out in her writing studio.

I thought about confronting her right away, but I didn't want to hear any excuses, any reasons she'd write something so ugly. I just knew that coming back to Lanford was a mistake, and I had to save myself and my kids.

Just like when I found out I was pregnant the first time, I made my plans before telling anyone, although it took longer this time. But I got a job in Chicago, teaching at the art school I escaped to a quarter century ago. They didn't even mind my erratic work history. One of the interviewers said, "Hell, that's a plus for a writer. Life experience."

I would never have wanted to be a teacher years ago. But having my own misfit kids has helped. I'm more patient and understanding now. And I love the idea that I could inspire people like I was inspired.

My mom used to be a role model, as a parent, a writer, a human being. I'm trying to still look up to the good side of her, while recognizing the bad side.

I thought about leaving without telling her what I'd seen, but I thought she should know why, no, I'm not visiting for Halloween and I'm going to have to give Thanksgiving and Christmas some thought.

"Mom, I've read _Monkeytown_."

"Oh. Did you think it was good?"

"I thought it was sick."

"Well, I wrote it when I was sick. I was on the pain-killers, you know, before my knee surgery."

"I didn't know that racism was a side effect of opiates."

She frowned. "I'm sorry you didn't get the joke."

"Yeah, well, maybe I've lost my sense of humor."

"So you're leaving me just because of a story? What about the sick stuff you wrote with David when you were a teenager?"

"At least my comics were funny."

I think that hurt her more than anything.

I did try to talk to Dad about it but he said, "Darlene, I'm happy for you about your teaching job, even though I'll miss you and your kids. But your mom." He sighed. "She is who she is. She's not the easiest person to live with, but when you love someone, you learn to get along. And you'll see, she's right about David."

He thinks this is about David. And maybe part of it is, but not how Dad thinks. I didn't tell him that by his logic, I should still be with David, learning to get along. Dad doesn't even agree with Mom that David has the potential to be a good father, while Mom thinks David can step up, but not as a husband.

"So, wait, I move back to Lanford and then you leave?"

"Don't take it personally, David. I just belong more in Chicago."

"Maybe I do, too."

"David, you can't move in with us." For one thing, the faculty housing, on the '50s-cornily named Writer's Block, I've got is only two bedrooms.

"I won't. But I could get a job in Chicago. You know I'm only here because of you and the kids."

"What about Blue?"

He shook his head. "She left me. Well, we broke up through Skype."

"Skype Blue?" I murmured.

"She said she realized that my spiritual energy is always going to be linked to yours in some form."

"Maybe she's not as stupid as I thought. Other than her name."

He smiled a little. "I still want to prove to you that I can be a good dad. And a good man."

I nodded. "OK. But let's not rush into anything."

"I won't kiss you then."

"Good. Because it would be hard to stop."

"So, uh, do you get to keep the casino uniform?"

"Only the feather."

Becky has my job now. She's enjoying it, and ironically she drinks less now, maybe because she has to clean up after drunks so much. She's taking one hotel management class in the afternoons. She sleeps through the mornings. She seems relatively happy.

My job in Chicago seems like enough of an explanation for everyone. D.J. fell for it, but he's always been gullible. Jerry sent me a four-leaf clover emoji. I think Becky knows something is up. It's always been hard to b.s. each other, but she just said thanks about the casino job and grumbled that I was leaving her to deal with our parents. As for my kids, well, they're so relieved to be going back to Chicago, they don't really care why.

"Darlene, I'm so proud to see you self-actualizing!" Aunt Jackie exclaimed when I told her about the teaching job. I couldn't tell her about Mom's story, not when her reconciliation with Mom is still shaky, and when she'll probably never leave Lanford, or Mom, herself.

"You've been an inspiration," I said, meaning it a little, although I've mostly learned from her bad example.

Andy sent a letter to me at the art school, the first that most of us had heard from him since he ran off when he turned eighteen. He said Jerry told him where I'd ended up. I'm not even sure this is "ending up." I'm in the middle, middle age, middle child, middle of the drama, even when I try to withdraw.

I thought he'd tell me why he left but he just said he works for a online comic consortium and "We're always looking for material to increase clicks. I've heard you used to do great comics with David. Do you have any stories you could share?"

The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would rather have had Season Nine all over again than what's happened now. We'll never get canonical closure but I wasn't thrilled with where the Season Ten writers were taking Darlene and the other characters anyway. If Darlene Conner-Healy returns in some form (maybe a spin-off), then I'll revisit her, but for now this is where I'm leaving her.


End file.
